


Glass Heart

by MsRedmobile



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brief mention of depression, Heart Break, Hinted reincarnation, M/M, Other, Post Series, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:56:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsRedmobile/pseuds/MsRedmobile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was born a midst swirling lights and golden trails of magic; brought to life by a pale man with the deepest blue eyes and the brightest smile imaginable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glass Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agirlnamedtruth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/gifts).



She was born a midst swirling lights and golden trails of magic; brought to life by a pale man with the deepest blue eyes and the brightest smile imaginable. 

The smiling man held her gently; cupping her in the palm of his hands like she was the most precious thing in the world. He whispered kind words to her, and promises of his love and care.

That’s when she fell in love with that sweet gentleman whose smile could chase away any fears or doubts about the new world around her.

The life given to her was a simple one. The smiling man’s home was a small cabin settled on a lake shore. She had been placed on a small wooden table next to the cabin’s hearth. Directly across the room a long worktable held a few self-steering cauldrons and glass vials full of the strange potions the smiling man often made; dried herbs hung from the ceiling above the table where they waited to be used. To the farthest corner the smiling man laid some gathered clothe into a makeshift bed. 

There were others there; several teacups and a kindly teakettle shared the table with her; the teakettle having welcomed her with nothing but kindness and the teacups quickly sweeping her into the their small circle of gossip and friendship. The cauldrons on the work table briefly acknowledged her before resuming their work; though she’s told they never speak much to anyone. The broomstick and duster hobble along and try to entertain the others everyday in the hopes of staying any boredom that threatens their everyday lives.

The gentle man liked to watch their antics. Whenever he wasn't outside the cabin he would lounge on the chair sitting next to her table and simply watch the broom and dust perform small tricks; his soft smile gracing his lips while the hearths flames danced in the background. He liked drinking tea in these small moments; cradling one of the cups in his hands while she filled the tea with the right amount of sugar. 

She wouldn't admit she was jealous of the way he held the teacups close to him; with his eyes half-lidded and his lips just barely brushing against them. He always gave a contented hum after the first sip; melting into his seat like all the troubles in the world were lifted off his shoulders. 

She wanted to be the one to make him feel like that.

It was a selfish wish; she knew that. But it was the only thing her little glass heart seemed to truly desire. His smile was everything to her. He was everything to her.

He was suffering; she could see it when all the others choose to ignore what was right in front of them. She saw it every morning when his eyes cracked open but he refused to rise; laying on those huddled blankets and staring at the roof as if debating whether it was even worth it to get up that morning. She saw it when he would drag himself off the floor and force himself to dress. She saw it when he’d strolled out the cabin every morning with the smile painted on his lips only to return hours later with dulled eyes and a dangerously less bright smile. 

She wondered what horrible place he went to everyday that made him liked this. 

Why did he do this to himself?

But she didn't have any answers. The only thing she could do to help heal him was make sure she added the amount of sugar he liked when he came home for his tea; because that was the only time he was ever at peace anymore.

It wasn't fair; she saw how he was suffering and was the only one who bothered to try and help him. She loved him more than anyone, loved him more than anyone else would ever love him, and yet she could do nothing to stop his smiles dimming more and more everyday. It came to the point where she took her fears to the teakettle. 

“No one knows where he goes.” The teakettle told her while preparing the gentle man’s favorite tea over the hearth. “Is he really depressed?”

The news of her observation spread like wildfire around the inhabitants of the cabin. The others became more observant than, and started making an effort to help the gentle man through the simple task of waking up every morning. They help kept an eye on him now; always making sure he was alright before he left for the day.

He was never alright.

Meanwhile a small part of her regretted mentioning her fears to the teakettle yet also rejoiced at the thought of her gentle man receiving the attention he deserved. These feelings mixed together within her tiny body and tore her apart at the very fabric of her soul. She couldn't help the bitter feeling that washed over her when he held any of the others. The sacrifice of the only thing that made her more worthy of his love than the others was wasted; it hadn't helped her gentle man at all. But he also deserved their love and attention; deserved the showering affection each of the inhabitants showed him now that they realized he wasn't the infallible god they’d held him to be before they’d noticed something was very wrong.

And time passed.

She wasn't sure how much time passed like this. More inhabitants were added and the cabin was reinvented to match the times. Sometimes her gentle man would pack a few of them up and leave for longer amounts of time than he’d used to spend. During these times it would be years before he’d ever come back.

The only inhabitant he’d always brought with him was a mirror he’d brought into their fold several years after he’d created her. The mirror was the only thing he always kept within reach; always close to his heart. He cradled that mirror in his hands at night, keeping it pressed close to his chest like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

She hated the mirror for stealing his attention.

She loved it for taking away his pain.

She overheard the teacups talking to the mirror once; after the gentle man set her down so he could drink. The mirror had another half; a second mirror it was connected to by the gentle man’s magic. The other mirror was propped up against a tree with perfect view of the lake not to far from the cabin. The connection between the two mirrors let the gentle man always have a perfect view of the lake. 

She was left to wonder why the lake was so important; the mirror had no answer for that. The poor thing just cried out for it’s other half even as the gentle man held her closer than any other.

What was so great about that stupid lake?

He hadn't been fine for awhile when it happened; often taking a bottle of liquor to the lips and falling on to the the newly carpeted floor. Often he didn't even even have the strength to make it to his bedroom where the blankets were still on the floor. He would wake up in a puddle of spilled booze and crawls towards the bathroom to vomit away the only food he’d bothered to eat anymore; which wasn't much more than small pieces of bread and crackers offered to employees of his workplace if the pens were to be believed.

It hurt to see such a great man reduced to this, because he deserved the world. That gentle man should sit on a diamond throne at the very top of the world where his every need was met. A wonderful man like him should be lavished with all the gifts the world had to offer. Not left to vomit with no one to rub his back but a solemn figurine he kept just outside the bathroom.

It had gotten so much worse than she’d been able to imagine. 

She thought he would get better once the drinking stopped, but he hadn't. Not at all. He’d gotten so much worse in just a short amount of time. Soon the booze and vomit was replaced with sharp knives and the colour red.

“He tried to kill himself.” The knife told her. “But I don’t think he can die.”

“What does ‘die’ mean?” She asked him.

“It’s like going to sleep, but you don’t wake up again.” He explained to her while he washed the red off his blade.

She didn't think she fully understood how dire the situation was even after the knowledge was passed onto her. Sleep was the only time the gentle man was ever at peace anymore. A sleep he never awoke from seemed like a kindness her gentle man deserved to have; it was cruel to deny him that peace when he was going through so much pain now.

The knife called her a fool when she told him her thoughts.

But it was cruel to leave the gentle man like this; dull eyed and thinner than he’d ever been. His joints and limbs stood out in odd places and his clothes hung from his his frame like loose sheet left on the line. He neglected to shave or trim his hair for the better part of a year now, and his nails were now long and terrible. 

She tried to make him feel better; she really did, but he was unmoved by her efforts. Nothing anyone did could make him feel better; it was like he didn't even realize they were trying to help him. He didn't realize how much they loved him; what he meant to them. 

So she tried to confess to him one day; when he wasn't as bad as normal and he didn't wake up in a pool of vomit. She had the teaset brew his favorite flavor, had the kitchen appliances prepare his favorite soup (because he couldn't eat anything heavier, not anymore), and had the radio play soothing music. He almost seemed relaxed when he sat on the plush chair; letting out a content hum and an almost smile for the first time in over a decade. He was almost happy.

She said it then, “I love you.”

But he didn’t hear her; he only took another sip from his soup bowl. So she tried again; this time with more emotion than she’d ever had before, “I’ve always loved you.”

He didn’t even notice she’d said anything. 

“More than anything.” She tried again. “You’re the most wonderful, gentle, kind person I’ve ever met and you’re more beautiful than every star in the sky and you deserve to have everything you’ve ever wanted.”

No response. 

The others were staring at her with sympathy.

She couldn’t stand it.

So she picked herself up and continued to add the right amount of sugar to his tea; she wouldn’t let the crushing despair stop her from making him happy again. She’d instructed the razor and clippers to groom him as soon as he was done eating and she still had to get the shower to relent and let him have a nice bath with salt and bubbles; she didn’t have the time for sadness. 

She had the dishes clean themselves today so the gentle man could only worry about relaxing. She had the washer clean all his clothes and blankets, the duster whipping everything clean, the vacuum making sure the carpet was clean, she’d even gotten the telly to hid the King Arthur movies that never failed to upset the gentle man.

She would not let this day go wrong.

It wasn’t long after he was settled into his makeshift bed with a smile on his face that the teakettle approached her. “I’m so sorry about today.”

She’d brushed it off with a wave. “It wasn’t important; the important part is that he was better.”

“We all love him you know.” The teakettle persisted. “It was brave of you to get up there and try; even if he couldn’t hear you.”

She didn’t even bother to respond.

“I think if he heard you...if he could’ve understood...I think he could’ve loved you too.” The teakettle said as if he actually believe what he was saying.

She couldn’t help but feel somewhat bitter; maybe was true. Would he have loved her back if he could understand her? Maybe they could have had something sweet and special if she’d only just been able to say something he could hear.

It wasn’t long before she found out that wasn’t true at all.

Her gentle man was cleaned up now; better than he’d been for the better part of a decade. He was freshly shaven, nails beautifully manicured (at the insistence of the clippers and polish who came to them as a christmas joke from his employer), hair trimmed. It had been a long and uphill battle but everyone was able to get him away from the booze and the knives. Eventually they were even able to get him to eat again.

The telly never let him watch anything upsetting; he would only play things that he absolutely knew the gentle man loved (he was extremely fond of epic fantasies like ‘Lord of The Rings’ and ‘Game of Thrones’, but Disney movies like ‘Fantasia’ and ‘Beauty and The Beast’ also made him happy). Everyone treaded lightly around him; making absolute sure that nothing could set him back to the way he was. He wasn’t better, but he was getting there.

And it’s because he wasn’t quite better yet that everyone was shocked when he suddenly started laughing one day. He smiled and laughed and cried tears of pure joy.

There was a knock on the door mere seconds later; followed by a soft call. “Merlin?”

Her gentle man jumped up; his face holding a mix of shock and joy. The man stumbled towards the door faster than anything she’d ever seen. As soon has his hand touched the doorknob he slung it wide open.

There was another man standing on the other side. He was tall, tanned, blue-eyed, blonde with a well tailored suit and fancy shoes. For a moment both men stood unmoving; too shocked to say anything. It wasn't long before the gentle man reached out; gently bringing his hands up to trace the other man’s jaw line. “Arthur?”

The way her gentle man said that, as if he wasn't sure the other man was really there, broke her heart.

The other man’s eyes widened. “You’re real?”

“Yea.” The gentle man shook his head, getting teary eyed again.

“I thought it was a dream. I thought I was losing my mind.” The blonde's voice cracked slightly. “I didn't know what...I thought that the family business made me crack...I wasn't even sure why I came...what brought me to this house.”

The gentle man threw his arms around the blonde. “I’m real Arthur. I’m real. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry.”

“Merlin…” The blonde started.

She didn't want to see this. She really didn't want to see this; so she turned and walked away. This was too personal, too intimate for anyone to watch, too heartbreaking for her because she could see the way the gentle man -Merlin- looked at the man standing outside his doorstep. 

It wasn't fair. Where was that man when Merlin was laying on the ground with a bottle in his hand? Where was he when Merlin took the knife? Where was he when he stopped eating? When he stopped taking care of himself? It was her who picked up the broken pieces and put them back together with gentle love and care. Her. Not him.

She turned back to glare at the blonde man.

They were kissing. Their arms wrapped around each other tightly, afraid to let go, and mouths practically devouring one another. Merlin’s hands reaching to twist themselves in Arthur’s hair while Arthur practically swooped Merlin off his feet and carried him into the house. 

She didn't want to watch this.

She turned away and told herself she couldn't feel her heart break.


End file.
